


Five Stars

by bri_ness



Category: SKAM (Norway)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Fluff and Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-04
Updated: 2019-11-04
Packaged: 2021-01-22 23:59:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21310759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bri_ness/pseuds/bri_ness
Summary: Even works at a café and is infamous in Yelp reviews as a flirtatious, charming barista. But he’s never wanted to take anyone home—until he meets a man with thirty-eight expressions, an affinity for eye rolls, and a deep hatred of pumpkin spice.
Relationships: Even Bech Næsheim/Isak Valtersen
Comments: 70
Kudos: 415





	Five Stars

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! It’s been a long time since I’ve written Evak, and it was so much fun to get back to it! 
> 
> About a month ago, I traveled by myself for the first time. I chose which cafés to go to based on their reviews, and one had multiple reviews that mentioned a barista who "completed the experience." When I went, I understood. He charmed the hell out of every customer, bringing regulars their orders before they sat down and flirting with newbies like me. And even though he was obviously flirting with everyone, it obviously made everyone (including myself!) feel special anyway. 
> 
> And thus, this idea.

Every day at work, Even is subjected to a dramatic reading of a Yelp review.

Today, Mikael’s adopted an American accent for reasons unknown. “Great place for locals _and _tourists,” he reads, using his outdoor voice. “Good coffee _and _amazing service!”

“Why are you yelling?”

“Caps lock. Obviously.” Mikael clears his throat, shifting from a generic American accent to a specifically Southern one. “_And_ Even, my God! He completes the experience!”

It’s not the first review where Even’s singled out.

“You need to know there’s like, a solid fifteen exclamation points at the end of this one,” Mikael says, thankfully back to his own voice. “Man Even, what have I told you about giving customers blowjobs? At least you’re ‘completing the experience.’”

“Fuck you.”

“If you did, I’d make a Yelp account. ‘Hot, but easily distracted. Three stars.’”

“How is it,” Eva says, unnecessarily sliding between them with drinks in both hands. “That I do all the work and you get the good reviews?”

“You could’ve gone around,” Mikael says, but quickly drops the point at Eva’s glare. “To be fair, I don’t get any good reviews. Most people think I’m a customer without any sense of boundaries.”

“Well, they’re right about part of that,” Even says, taking the drinks out of Eva’s hands. “I’ve got these. Just point me where to go.”

Eva gestures to nowhere, already running back to the register. (And dragging an amused Mikael with her by the shirt).

So, Even is not a good barista. He fucks up any drink that’s more complicated than coffee because he doesn’t take the time measure shit properly. Mikael calls him creative, but they both know that’s a bullshit excuse for his laziness. If he were on the Great British Bake Off, which he does occasionally fantasize about despite a total lack of skill, he’d place last in every technical challenge. (Because of the laziness, of course. The lack of skill is simply an obstacle).

But people, he’s good at people. And he’s not naïve or humble enough not to recognize that it’s easier to be good at people when you look a certain way—something about blue eyes and a bright smile.

He should clarify. He is better at first impressions than he is at people. Blue eyes, well, those are always there. A bright smile’s easy enough to turn on. Remember their name, compliment them, ask them about themselves. Charm, and maybe they’ll tip you better. They’ll probably treat you better.

At the very least, they’ll write a fucking Yelp review.

Scanning the café, Even searches for the owners of the drinks: two caramel macchiatos. It’s late August, so he suspects they’re new students; they always opt for drinks that sound fancy but are full of sugar to show off their newfound sophistication. Smiling at the regulars, his eyes eventually land on two girls he’s never seen before. There are UiO-branded totes by their feet, full of UiO-branded water bottles, pens, and mousepads—as if anyone’s going to show up for class using a fucking _mousepad. _One girl’s hair is piled on the top of her head the way Eva does it, and the other girl’s is cut short into a I-just-graduated-high-school-and-therefore-must-make-a-dramatic-but-not-permanent-change bob.

Sonja did that. And their apartment was full of that UiO shit. Even doesn’t know why he’s thinking about this.

“Excuse me,” he says, approaching the table. “My coworker gave me these drinks to deliver, but failed to tell me who they belong to. Therefore, I must use the power of deduction. These are two beautiful drinks, and you are two beautiful girls, so…?”

Hair-piled-on-head-girl, as she’s known to close friends, rolls her eyes, but both her and her friend are smiling. “Does that line ever work?”

Even matches her smile. “Sometimes. First time here?”

Dramatic-bob-girl takes this one. “We just started at UiO.”

“Studying?”

“Psychology.”

“You’ll need lots of coffee for studying, then. Will I see you back here…sorry, what were your names?”

“You might,” Hair-piled-on-head girl says with a smirk. “I’m Ida, and this is Sofie.”

“I’m Even. The next time you’re here, because I do believe you’ll be back, find me. I’ll take care of you.”

As Even heads back behind the counter, he overhears Mikael say to Eva, “See, _that’s _how he get the good reviews.”

“That,” Even interjects. “And the blowjobs.”

\---

Even has never actually given a customer a blowjob.

Not because he’s professional—as Eva will confirm, he has no interest in being that. It’s just not his thing: one-night stands, one-week flings, one-month relationships where he gets more invested than the other party.

He’d rather be a boyfriend. He likes to spend his mornings and evenings with the same person, a person that also cares about everything in-between. He likes to know the specific spot that someone likes to be kissed, and the specific way they like to be kissed there. (For Sonja, it was the inside of her wrist, quick and lovely). He likes not having to explain himself.

He likes to be known and he likes to give someone else that feeling. Something they can trust in.

It’s just—he’s not good at it. The laziness thing, that doesn’t go away, even when he wants to be his best as a boyfriend. And sometimes he doesn’t want someone there in the morning who will call him out on sleeping for over twelve hours, someone in the evening to snipe at when they’re both exhausted from everything in-between. Sometimes he wants to be kissed in ways that don’t track with how they’ve kissed before; sometimes he wants to be kissed by someone else’s lips.

Sometimes an explanation is demanded of him when he doesn’t think it should be. Sometimes the explanation he gives isn’t what the other person thinks it should be.

Sometimes they do know each other, but then they change. And it’s really no one’s fault, but it feels like it’s his.

Sonja’s visited the café a few times since their break-up. They’re on good terms, apparently. Watching him with the customers, she said, “Now, this suits you better.”

Her smile wasn’t mean when she said it. It was supposed to be a nice thing to say. _Look, this is how you’re happy, and I’m glad you’re happy! _But Even doesn’t know if this is how he wants to be happy.

Flirting through first impressions, that’s what’s safe for him. For a few minutes, he’s not alone, because he has hope and possibilities as guests.

They are notoriously charming and notoriously flighty, much like himself.

\---

Eskild is the only regular without a usual order.

Each visit, he _hm_’s over the menu as though it’s changed in the three years he’s been coming here. (It has, actually. They now offer oat milk, but Eskild doesn’t go for that).

He looks up at Even, chin in his hands and eyes that can only be described as _aflutter_, and says, “I just can’t decide. What do you recommend?”

Today, Eskild has a guest who does not have the patience for it. He has rolled his eyes three times in the past minute; Even’s keeping track as an excuse to look at his eyes.

He is hot, which is not a notable declaration for Even to make. Eskild’s hot, Eva’s hot, Mikael’s hot; most people are hot. This guy, though—maybe it’s the way his lips part, or his hair curls, or maybe it _is _his eyes—

Even doesn’t know, but it’s throwing him a bit.

“Pumpkin spice lattes are back early,” Even says. Eye roll #4 happens so quick, it must be a fucking reflex for this guy. “Extra whipped cream?”

“For after your shift?” Eskild asks with a smile.

Even winks at him, then gestures to Eskild’s guest. “Looks like you might have other plans.”

Eskild blinks, then splurts out, “Oh, _Isak? _Oh, no, no,_ no_. Isak is more of a stray-cat-who-followed-me-home situation. Just as grumpy, and between you and me, smells just as bad.”

“_Eskild._”

Isak’s voice is not sweet, but any voice that can be that angry can be that kind too.

“Yes?” Eskild says, innocent.

“I’m right here?”

“_Ok_,” Eskild says, rolling his own eyes now. “Yes, pumpkin spice for me.”

“And for your handsome guest?”

Even smiles at the red that creeps into Isak’s cheeks.

“He’ll have something boring,” Eskild says. “I’m putting my bets on black coffee because it tastes like hating fun.”

“Actually,” Isak says, then, like the words physically hurt him, “I’ll have the same.”

“Extra whipped cream for you as well?” Even asks. “Or shall I save the whole bottle for the end of my shift?”

“Uh, no. Thanks.”

As Even goes to prepare their drinks, meaning he’ll ask Eva to prepare them, he overhears Eskild say, “You’re not coming out with me anymore if you’re going to steal all the attention.”

Given how many times Even’s eyes shift to Isak during their stay, something Eskild signals he notices with a dramatic eyebrow raise, Even suspects he won’t see Isak again. 

\---

It’s Eskild who stays home.

He sees Isak again. All the fucking time, actually, and usually with a laptop, binders, and textbooks that don’t all fit on the table. (No UiO-branded swag though, where Even’s learned he’s a student). When Even catches him precariously balancing a textbook on his lap and against the table’s edge, he wordlessly pushes another table against it.

Isak only notices when the impact shakes his, thankfully empty, mug. Even didn’t quite think that one through, but it all worked out, so he’s compliant with the no harm, no foul policy.

He is not, however, compliant with the don’t-push-tables-together-you-entitled-assholes policy, a fact Eva reminds him by pointing at the sign the states the same. (The sign is worded slightly differently).

“Refill?” Even asks as he takes the mug. “Maybe some milk in your coffee to really spice things up?”

Isak makes one of his many faces. Even calls this one: _fuck you for suggesting I do something out of my normal routine. _It’s cute.

“Ah,” Even says. “You’re still recovering from the Great Pumpkin Spice Fiasco of 2019.”

“Too soon. I need at least six months to recover before we can joke about it.”

Isak was not a fan, as Even learned when he slinked to the register on his first visit and asked for a coffee. “Guess I hate fun,” he mumbled.

“You wouldn’t if you had it with me,” Even said.

But Isak either didn’t pick up on it, or wasn’t in the mood to flirt…Even’s still not sure. Isak responded with, “Is karaoke fun to you?”

“Absolutely.”

“Board games?”

“Classic family fun!”

“Escape rooms?”

“Who doesn’t enjoy working in their free time?”

“Then you must be fucking good company,” Isak said.

And he must be, because Isak keeps coming back.

“I’ll get your coffee,” Even says, but before he can leave, Mikael’s taken a spare seat at Isak’s table.

Glancing at the counter, Even says, “Aren’t you, you know, working?”

“Eva just said, and I quote, ‘If you don’t get out of my fucking way, I’ll spill coffee on you and make it look like an accident.’ So to avoid getting lawyers involved, I figured it was best I took a break. I hate lawyers. And anyway, I need to have an important discussion with you about our Yelp reviews.”

“You read those?” Isak asks.

“We need to entertain ourselves somehow.”

“You could work!” Eva yells from behind the counter. It is not a large café.

Mikael dismisses her with a wave of his hand and clears his throat. “I want to give this place five stars,” he reads with a British accent. “But they don’t have smoothies, so I’m giving it one.”

“This is a café,” Even says.

“Doesn’t matter! One star! Oh, here’s another good one.” Mikael uses a Scottish accent this time. “Even really made us feel special during our visit. He promised to take care of us when we come back, which we definitely will.”

It could be Ida and Sofie, but they are not the only girls or boys Even’s made that promise to.

Mikael puts his phone down. “Even, when I said you need to stop giving the customers blowjobs, I didn’t mean to start having threesomes. Though, it does say ‘we.’ We don’t know how many people they’re referring to—”

“_Ok_,” Even says, pulling Mikael’s chair out with him still in it. “Go clear a table or something before you horrify our customers.”

“Says the guy having threesomes.”

When Mikael leaves, Even takes his seat. This might as well be his break.

“So, is that a thing?” Isak asks.

“What?”

“Do people, you know? Come here for you?”

“Don’t sound so skeptical. I am very charming.”

“Well, exactly.” Isak shifts in his seat. “Like, do they really think you’re going to write your number on their cup? It’s just how you are.”

“I don’t know if they think that,” Even says. “But the people who come here want an escape from their shit day. Or you know, they’re on vacation and trying to be someone else. It’s just part of the fantasy.”

“I guess.”

“Why do you come here?”

Isak has a readable face. Even’s named at least twenty of his expressions. This one, though—it’s new. And it’s trying to hide something.

After a beat, Isak says, “You’ll have to wait for my Yelp review to find out.”

\---

Isak always comes to the café alone.

It lets Even fill-in as company. Ask how his day’s been and how his night will go. Joke until he makes that face, the _I’m trying not to laugh right now because I don’t want to give you the satisfaction_ one, that crinkled smile that always breaks in the end. Read Yelp reviews together because he’s in on it now, though he does notably less voices than Mikael.

Isak always comes to the café alone, until one day, he doesn’t.

The man across from him has dark skin, bright eyes, and arm muscles that show through his shirt. And Isak, he’s become someone who leans in and whispers, who punctuates every sentence with a smirk, who sneaks a hand on his partner’s thigh under the table.

It’s disconcerting. By this point, Even has named thirty-eight of Isak’s expressions—there’s a chart and everything—and he hasn’t made any of them.

He remembers his own words to Isak: _escape, trying to be someone else, fantasy. _Maybe Isak’s trying it out.

And it’s clearly fucking working for him, so.

Even’s envious of people who can date. It’s another thing that’s not his thing. He wants more than pleasantries and platitudes, more than the awkward-dance-around-the-first-kiss, because who the fuck has time? He wants to know people and he wants to kiss them, in some kind of mutual arrangement, without all the ritual around it.

With Sonja, it just happened. The quiet girl hanging around his friend group, but when she talked, you fucking listened to what she said. Or Even did, anyway, which is probably why she talked more when they ended up alone together. And because they had stuff in common—not interests, priorities, or anything that made sense on paper, but feelings. They were both too much, wound in different ways, wanting more of the world than it cared to give them. Sonja was classic Type A, and Even was a type no one’s named because people like him don’t bother with shit like that.

He convinced her, the girl who unironically bragged about her attendance record, to skip class one day. As all 80s teen movies promised Even, they were together after that.

But he’s not fifteen anymore. He’s not meeting people the way it’s easy to in school, and it’s not like he’s having real conversations with the customers—

Except.

Their conversations haven’t been deep, but maybe keeping someone’s company can be meaningful enough.

Even realizes that he has a crush on Isak the moment he leaves with his date.

\---

Even enjoys closing the café.

It’s weird, he knows, that he finds comfort in checklists when he doesn’t have the patience to follow a simple drink order, but that’s during the day. The day has people: beautiful, fascinating distractions from his thoughts.

When Eva leaves early for a date and Mikael leaves early because he’s Mikael, when Even’s only plan to is to go home alone, he takes solace in work. Predictable and planned work: check off every box on this list and you’ll have at least done something right.

Even is putting the chairs up when he notices Isak outside, squinting at their hours posted on the window. Isak catches his eye, mouths a _sorry_, then shifts on his feet like he doesn’t know where to go.

It’s cold out—Even presumes, anyway, because there’s a hint of pink in Isak’s cheeks. And he pretends that’s the only reason he opens the door.

“Sorry,” Isak says in a way that’s automatic, like he’s used to apologizing as a greeting. “I thought you were open later. I’ll just go, uh—”

“Come in, Isak. You switch to decaf now?”

Ah, the _if you deny me caffeine, I will murder you in a creative but notably disturbing way _face. A classic.

“Herbal tea it is,” Even says as they walk into the café together. He takes a chair down at the table he knows Isak prefers. Close to the window, close to an outlet, and close to the counter—

Close to Even.

“You don’t have to…,” Isak starts, though he does sit down. “You were closing up.”

“It’s ok. I like the company.”

Even joins him once he’s made Isak’s coffee and an herbal tea for himself, though he does put the tea down in front of Isak first just to get a reaction.

“Is this why you always talk to me when I’m here?” Isak asks, making a show of switching their mugs. “Distract me so you can poison me with whatever the fuck this is?”

“Chamomile. Helps you sleep.” In a low whisper, he adds, “_Forever._”

“What’s the motivation? You think I’m behind the bad Yelp reviews?”

“Oh no, I know you’re the one who wrote that ‘Even is as sweet as a frappuccino’ one.’”

It’s a nice pink, in Isak’s cheeks.

“Right. Nauseating.”

Speaking of which.

“I thought you were on a date tonight.”

Isak looks caught, as though Even didn’t witness foreplay that he did not care to see. “Oh. Yeah, that didn’t work out.”

“Really? Looked like it was going well.”

“You saw the easy part.”

“What do you mean?”

“I know how to go home with someone when I don’t want to go home alone. But, I don’t know. It doesn’t really work.”

To stop himself from asking _what do you mean? _again like a broken doll, Even just gives Isak space to continue.

“I still feel alone, I guess.”

“I know what that’s like,” Even says.

Isak scoffs. Legitimately scoffs. He is almost cartoonish in his exaggerated expressions, but like Even’s favourite animated characters, there’s something endearing about it.

“I call bullshit,” Isak says, like Even didn’t infer that from the scoff. “The way you are here, there’s no way you’re ever alone.”

“The way I am here,” Even says. “Is part of the fantasy for me too. Feel loved for a few minutes, because no one…”

He cuts himself off because holy fuck, he is saying too much. But like Even did for him, Isak’s giving him space to continue, and it’s so rare for someone to offer that to him.

“I’m a lot,” Even concludes with a shrug. “I want relationships, but people don’t want to have them with me. And I don’t just mean romantically, but like, fucking _anything_.”

“I know how depressing this is, but other than Eskild, my most significant relationship right now is with my barista.” Isak pauses, then adds, “They work at the Starbucks across the street.”

“You’re an asshole.”

“But do you feel alone right now?” he asks, his sincerity as pronounced as everything else he expresses. “Like, with me?”

“No.”

“Me neither.”

Even does have to close the café, and Isak does have to get home, but they both take their time.

\---

The next day at work, Mikael doesn’t subject Even to a dramatic reading of a Yelp review. He just hands Even his phone instead.

_I’ve been coming to this fucking place for months and hated every second of it. I was coerced into trying a pukpmin fucking spice latte. I was nearly POSIONED with chamomomoile. And the staff are fucking unprofessional. They read these reviews to each ohter instead of working. Or they fucking flirt with the custtomers. But they don’t write their nubmers on anyone’s cup!_

_Zero stars. _

It is actually a three-star review.

\---

Isak does not show up until closing time. He knocks, loud and obnoxious, until Even unlocks the door.

“Please, come in,” Even says, though Isak’s already inside by the time he’s finished his sentence. 

“I blame the chamomile.”

“I believe you mean ‘chamomomoile.’ And you didn’t actually drink it.”

“Fine. It might’ve been the beer. And my friends, they’re assholes who thought it was a good idea—”

“I thought your most significant relationship was with your barista.”

Isak’s energy had Even suspecting he traitorously got a coffee from the Starbucks across the street, but it subsides in an instant, somehow settling into something more intense.

“So did I.”

Even doesn’t know what to say to that. They’re well-past his comfort zone of flirting and first impressions now.

“I don’t think I misread this,” Isak says.

“You didn’t.” Even says it before he’s fully thought about it, his impulses finally working in his favour.

“It doesn’t just have to be a fantasy. For either of us.”

Even’s been stuck in his memories of Sonja, the failed fantasy that was his fault. But Isak is not her, and Even is not a teenager anymore, and—

The cliché is _there’s no harm in trying_, but that’s bullshit. Of course there is, but there’s harm in not trying too. Harm is what’s unavoidable, but love, the good things he had with Sonja, maybe even something better than that—

Even would like to experience that again.

Isak steps closer to him, close enough to brush his hand against Even’s waist. At Even’s shiver, Isak puts his hand back on Even’s waist and keeps it there, pulling him in.

“I’ll take a coffee,” he says. “And your phone number.”

“I can’t write my number on your cup when you always eat in. It’s vandalism.”

Isak rolls his eyes, and Even, well, he believes the technical term is _swoons. _“To-go, then.”

“And for your handsome guest?” Even asks.

“Not sure. I know he likes chamomile tea, but he’ll need energy tonight.”

“Better go with coffee, then.” Even breaks out of Isak’s grip, smiling when he gets a new expression out of Isak. He’ll call it: _I hate that I’m not touching you right now, but I’m going to make up for it later. _

“Sorry,” Even says. “But I want to do this quickly. We’ve gotten some bad Yelp reviews lately.”

“Well, if you want five stars,” Isak says, with a wicked smile that fits too well on his face. “You’ll have to earn it.”

\---

_I’ve been coming to this fucking place for months and hated every second of it. I was coerced into trying a pukpmin fucking spice latte. I was nearly POSIONED with chamomomoile. And the staff are fucking unprofessional. They read these reviews to each ohter instead of working. Or they fucking flirt with the custtomers. But they don’t write their nubmers on anyone’s cup!_

_Zero stars. _

_EDIT: I retract my previous review. Five stars. _


End file.
